


Lie To Me

by Syaunei



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Autistic Julian Bashir, First Kiss, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, If you read between the lines, M/M, Meltdown, Pining, Post-Episode: s03e01-e02 The Search, Psychological Trauma, Repressed Emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24447109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Syaunei/pseuds/Syaunei
Summary: Set post-season 3 opening two-parter.Julian is having nightmares about Garak's death in the simulation.The lines between reality and the simulation blur to the point where he needs to seek confirmation that he isn't still stuck in there.And the only person capable of assuaging his fears (one way or the other) is Garak.
Relationships: Julian Bashir & Elim Garak, Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 55
Kudos: 173





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Written solely because I wasn't feeling very well physically.
> 
> The writing reflects it.
> 
> Also, I needed to explore the ramifications of that death scene.

Julian awoke with a strangled shout.

The mad thrashing in his chest was not subsiding as his eyes frantically attempted to adjust to the gloom of his quarters. Familiar Cardassian architecture greeted him from every shadow, but he couldn't calm his breathing – shallow and quick, coming in stuttered bursts; failing to take in the oxygen needed for optimal functioning of his augmented body. 

It wasn't real.

It hadn't been real, he desperately tried to convince himself, even as beads of sweat cascaded down his face. He felt feverish, incoherent, _insane_.

“It's not real…” He muttered to the oppressive silence of his quarters and ripped the blanket off his body.

He felt stifled. 

Boxed in.

Trapped.

Not necessarily by the station, or his quarters – no. 

He was trapped in _his mind._

Every single night since he had returned, his unconscious mind would dredge up the memory. And no matter how fiercely he fought to appear unaffected during his waking hours, the encroaching darkness coiled at the very bottom of his consciousness, just waiting for him to slip into a fitful sleep so it could coalesce and slither upwards until he was _choking_ in the memory-

_ Running…  _

_ Garak lying, _

_ So clever, thinking so fast on his feet- _

_ Quipping, like an idiot, _

_ Always witty and then- _

_ Then _

_ Then _

His mind skipping over that part like a corrupted string of characters in a file – like a cluster of dead pixels on the screen. It felt like some deeply entrenched defense mechanism kicking in every time he tried to remember it while he was awake – alarms blaring, airlocks disengaging and venting the atmosphere into space.

_ Mad dash for the runabout- _

_ Escaping- _

_ “He’s not coming.” _

Spoken without feeling.

Numb and perfunctory.

Fully compartmentalized in his need to be a functional member of the team, needed for the mission, needed-

A full-body shudder brought him back into his body and he realized he was drenched in a cold sweat, pajamas clinging to his body in a way that made his skin crawl. Feeling suffocated and sticky, he pulled it off – pulled it all off. He stumbled through his quarters naked and dazed, heading for the sonic shower.

He needed to get this feeling off his skin.

He needed to get the smell out of his nostrils.

He needed-

As the inaudible vibrations scrubbed his skin half-raw - highest setting, of course, nothing else would do; Julian pressed his palms onto the unyielding, somewhat coarse surface of the shower and attempted to breathe.

Attempted to rationalize.

His mind swirled with facts and figures.

Ambient temperature – nominally 22°C, but in actuality always lower, currently 20.9°C; humidity 53.6%, pressure-

Against his chest.

The blue eyes,

Clever until the end.

Slumping in his arms - Commander Sisko dragging him away, Jadzia laying cover fire.

He’d hesitated. Wanted to-

His mind had told him Garak was gone – disruptor blast to the chest, nothing to be done, especially not in those circumstances, but then cold harsh reality descended upon him –

His mind was a liar.

The simulation was a _lie_.

The whole scenario had been a lie, so why was he only affected by-

_ Say it, you coward – SAY IT. _ His minds screamed at him and Julian smashed his hands against the wall, letting out an inarticulate cry so visceral and loud his ears rang and his throat felt on fire.

It wasn’t real.

It wasn’t.

I couldn’t save him.

I couldn’t.

_ He’s real, you idiot, right here on this station, probably fast asleep, or reading one of his horrible self-sacrificial fascist novels, he’s REAL and NOT DEAD and if you could touch him YOU WOULD KNOW he’s- _

That was just it, wasn’t it?

This could all be an illusion, still.

Maybe they’d never been freed at all.

Maybe this was just a cruel continuation of the experiment.

Maybe it wasn’t even an experiment at all, but torture.

Very efficient, very ruthless torture.

He realized his hands were numb and shaky. When he looked at his palms they were chafed and raw. Trembling, he let the shower take the mess away and turned it off.

He was doing it again.

Falling too deeply into his mind. Usually it was easier to lock his doubts away. It’s been years since it felt one quite this bad. In his hubris, or optimism or maybe naiveté, for Garak would surely call it inexperience or something equally, infuriatingly condescending, he’d assumed he’d moved past them, these almost… fugue states. 

Back when he would rock himself into oblivion.

Or sit on the floor, focusing on a perfect composition of colorful bricks that lay on the ground.

Back then, if anyone tried moving them, or him, he would scream.

They were SUPPOSED to be in that configuration, not tidied away. Not in a tower, or an arch, NO.

He put them where they were supposed to be.

If only he could put his mind into that same configuration…

But he didn’t know it anymore. That perfect, organic arrangement eluded him. 

If his superior intellect was failing him… If it couldn’t be trusted… If nothing made sense anymore…

They would find him discomposed and they would KNOW.

_ Jules, it was a gift!  _

His father’s words of recrimination rang in his ears. Reminding him forever that he was a fraud and that he should keep his mouth shut and be grateful for the opportunities he’d been given and-

He was doing it again.

Ruminating.

Dwelling on things best left under lock and key.

That’s why Garak felt, at times, almost unbearably close. 

So many secrets, such heavy burdens – unexpressed and to be borne with a smile.

And he’d almost lost him.

With the Wire.

And in the Simulation.

What was it about Garak that he felt he couldn’t lose?

A sense of kinship?

A similar burden?

Padding through his rooms, he stumbled to his dresser and pulled out the softest pair of pajamas he had. 

Then, before he could question his intuition, he donned the first pair of socks he grabbed, put his shoes on, draped a blanket over his shoulders and looked at Kukalaka, sitting calmly on his perch.

“I can’t touch you, old chum. If I’m wrong and this is all fake, it would break my heart.”

Instead, he hoped he would get what he needed from another source.

_ Garak… You better lie to me and pull out all the stops… _

Julian had never needed it more.


	2. Chapter 2

Julian was grateful that the way to Garak's quarters didn't take him through any of the main thoroughfares, such as the Promenade, or he would have probably been seen by more than the occasional tipsy resident, returning to their quarters to sleep off their night of merriment and gambling (Quark's was closed for the night, but with a compromised balance and navigational capabilities, he supposed anyone would need some time to find their quarters, especially with this non-descript, repetitive design).

Repetitive.

Julian looked at the hallways curving, extending and found the repetition marginally soothing. He knew where he was and there wasn't much chance of getting lost. 

The sharp lines most people complained about didn't seem all that sharp to him – all the edges were slightly abraded, all the geometric shapes had rounded corners and despite the almost chevron-esque pattern repeating along the walls, there was a softness in the design that balanced the jutting, upward curves. Cardassian design was utilitarian, yes, but the aesthetic hadn't been sacrificed in the process. One needed only to look at their oval viewports – the motif of sunrays fanning out around it, or at least that's what he thought it was, lent credence to the fact that whoever designed it clearly had beauty and symbolism in mind when they conceived Terok Nor. 

Naturally, he knew why the Bajorans despised it. Every corner, every line, every light had witnessed horrible mistreatment and crime. They would never associate this place with beauty. It was hard earned, through sweat, blood and toil, and even then it was a very poor recompense for what the Cardassians had stolen from them. 

Regardless, the point was moot. Julian wasn't Bajoran. He didn't know the horrors of the Occupation, or genocide. Unless it was by proxy... If he thought of his augmentations, he knew his kind wasn't treated kindly.

Wouldn't be treated kindly.

All the more reason to lengthen his stride and find Garak.

Five more junctions.

Two more right turns.

Fourth door on the left.

4...

3..

2.

He came to a full stop and took a deep breath. 

This was stupid. 

It was the middle of the night. Garak must be asleep.

Definitely.

Surely.

Maybe he should just go back to his quarters. Nobody would ever know he'd been out of bed – and if they asked, he could simply say he had gone out for a stroll due to insomnia... Nobody would find that suspicious, surely?

But what then?

He returns to his quarters, his shadows, his demons – where he feels them at their most immediate.

To the bed that whispers and promises another night of bad dreams.

Another instance of being too late.

Too late to save Garak.

A wrecking shudder wells up from within and he squeezes his blanket tighter around his shoulders.

There is nothing to be gained by walking away.

_ Remember what you came here for... Remember what you need. _

It was the height of arrogance to assume Garak was even remotely interested in providing what he needed. 

Still... What other choice did Julian have?

They _were_ friends, of a sort. 

Especially after the Wire...

His erratic heartbeat picked up again, and he was trying to steel himself for the upcoming conversation.

Or torrent of lies.

Or a little bit of both. 

Real Garak always had a way of surprising him.

That's what he needed.

He needed the real Garak to throw him off kilter.

The fake one had been...

Too agreeable.

Too open.

It made sense though.

Because the real Garak hadn't been there at all.

If they were reading his mind and extrapolating information, that meant they only had his very vague and definitely incomplete vision of the spy come tailor. They knew he…

They didn’t…

Did they?

They couldn’t!

Was Garak dying a part of the test? To see how he would react? 

Did he pass it by being mostly unaffected?

Or was he failing it abysmally right now, bringing danger to the real Garak who was out there, safely tucked in his bed?

If he was still in the Simulation, would Garak come find him?

He sighed, shoulders slumping.

It was wishful thinking, no more.

After all, he was the doctor. It had been his call to reach out to Enabran Tain for information. 

He knew there had been a high chance of dying.

But not trying would have been unbearable.

Still, Garak was under no medical or ethical obligation to him, even if they were friends.

_ I need…  _

Julian needed to know what was real.

Taking a deep fortifying breath, he pressed the door chime.

Silence.

He allowed ten seconds to elapse and then pressed it, insistently, again.

One… Two…Three… Four… Five… Six… Seven… Eight-

Maybe Garak was worried. Or thought it was a prank.

After all, what sane person rang the doorbell in the middle of the night on a workday?

On the off chance he was listening to the intercom, Julian murmured:

“It’s me, Garak… Please open the door.”

Twenty-two… Twenty-three… Twenty-four…

The doors whooshed open, revealing an almost imperceptibly disheveled Garak who regarded him with slightly narrowed eyes, likely from having his sleep cycle so brutally interrupted.

Still, his face accommodated an amiable, if disconcertingly servile smile.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of a late-night visit, Doctor? If you are here to harangue me about your overdue costume alteration, I’ll have you know my working hours are clearly written on the doors of my establishment-“

Unable to help himself, Julian cracked a small grin.

“It’s not that… May I come in?”

“By all means!” Garak said jovially, as much as his clearly sleep-affected voice allowed, and moved to the side with a sweeping hand gesture of welcome.

Julian found himself inexplicably soothed. 

If this was a simulation, Garak probably would have opened the door before he got the chance to ring, and looked completely unruffled, not a hair out of place and certainly no hint of interrupted sleep.

Perhaps his image of the man needed adjusting.

Julian looked around and sat on the small sofa, wrapping the blanket around himself more securely.

The room was very warm, though. So warm that by the time Garak sat down next to him, he was beginning to feel flushed.

“Good grief, it’s sweltering in here!”

If Garak had eyebrows, they would be shooting up his hairline at the moment. Instead he received a withering glare that spoke volumes.

_ Of course it’s sweltering; I am trying to keep warm in my sleep, Doctor. Surely you have surmised my kind’s need for warmth, what with your keen intellect and xenobiological expertise… _

“Never mind…” Julian muttered, feeling suitably chastised. “I’ll just…” he cast a guilty look at Garak and wriggled out of his blanket, letting it pool around him like a small nest.

He was suddenly very much aware of his disruption.

And rudeness.

It was rude to barge in uninvited.

Sure, Garak had done that to him before and Julian hadn’t minded overly much, what with the prospect of adventure and intrigue, but not everyone was like him – able to function on minimal amount of sleep. 

His shoulders slumped.

He’d been rude again.

Thoughtless.

“I’m sorry, Garak… I interrupted your sleep, barged in uninvited… Maybe I should just-“ Just as he was about to get up, a cool hand grasped his arm gently, halting his movement.

Shocked by the feel of cool fingers across his skin, he sat back down and tried to calm his frantically beating heart.

“It is no bother, Doctor.” Garak said amiably, “I was awake anyhow, fetching myself a glass of water.”

Julian cast a look around, noticed no water, the edge of a disruptor peeking from beneath a cushion and realized with almost crushing fondness that Garak was lying to him.

_ He’s lying to assuage me. _

That had no business being so sweet, yet Julian felt a prickling in his eyes. 

“Now, if I may be so bold, what brings you to me at this late hour?” 

The tone was inquisitive and playful, but Julian could somehow sense the underlying care in those words and it only made the prickling worse. 

How to phrase it?

The mission was classified, naturally. He wasn’t allowed to discuss it with anyone other than the people who had shared that nightmare.

Nightmare…

That would sound so stupid and childish…

Yet, what choice did he have?

“I had…” Julian’s voice faltered, and he swallowed around the sudden dryness in his throat, “A nightmare.”

There.

It was out now.

His body quivered in trepidation, fearing his companion’s reaction.

Would he be laughed at?

His father would have laughed.

_ You’re too old for nightmares, Jules! The monsters under your bed aren’t real! _

He suffocated the urge for inappropriate laughter and thought bitterly -

_ The ones under my bed aren’t real, no… But the ones in my head… _

“I see.” Garak said simply.

It was spoken so _achingly_ without judgement that Julian’s heart twinged.

No… Not like his father at all.

He let out a stuttered sigh of relief.

“Was I… part of this nightmare of yours?” Garak asked tactfully and Julian nodded.

Something complex flitted across that blue gaze, only to be swallowed up by a friendly mask.

“Am I correct in assuming that whatever the dream version of me had been doing is what has you so discomposed?” 

Julian felt his chin wobble and pressed his lips shut.

The tiniest of whimpers escaped his control and he shut his eyes tight.

“Have I… hurt you?”

Julian’s eyes flew open and his jaw slackened.

“What, no! Of course not!”

Hurt him? 

Why would Garak assume-

Julian stared at the man helplessly as comprehension crept in.

Garak thought Julian was upset over disturbing dreams of being hurt by him-

Unable to hold it back anymore, Julian whimpered, tears spilling down his cheeks.

“That’s not it at all!” He whined out, appalled at his lack of self-control.

“My apologies,” Garak attempted to soothe him, “I merely assumed this was something you weren’t able to go to one of your other friends with.”

It was an astute observation, even if Garak had gotten it wrong.

Then it hit him.

Garak had assumed wrong.

In his mind, Garak was almost an infallible being. 

An ideal of perceptiveness and forbidden knowledge.

Would his mind have him make mistakes like this?

Then again…

Perhaps this was his wishful thinking at play again.

Being soothed…

Put at ease…

That was what he wanted, wasn’t it?

“How could I tell anyone else…” Julian muttered, trailing off.

_ When I can’t even tell you? _

“You don’t think they would understand?” Garak ventured.

Julian gave him a furtive glance.

“I know they wouldn’t.”

“Yet, for some reason, you felt I would?”

It felt like coaxing.

“You always do.” Julian stated.

It was a simple matter of fact. 

“You may pretend to fight me over a concept, but you have to understand it first to be able to come up with a counter-argument. And you _always_ come up with something.”

Garak gave him a shrewd look.

“Such glowing praise.”

Julian wiped his face and snickered.

If Garak was trying to lighten the mood, he was succeeding.

“So, what was this nefarious occurrence in your dream, hmmm?” The tailor prodded gently.

Julian turned to face him and tucked one of his legs under himself.

He should tell him.

The urge was overwhelming.

“You…”

_ Bravery, Julian. _

_ Be brave. _

“You died.”

The surprise on Garak’s face was almost jarring in its sincerity.

“Disruptor rifle blast to the chest. You were gone within seconds.”

Even now, even here it was upsetting.

Even with the person in question sitting next to him, breathing and lucid, he was feeling the crawling tangle of panic metastasizing inside his gut.

“Is this what upsets you? That you failed to save me?”

The hidden edge in that question rankled.

Like Garak was just some patient.

That he resented the reminder.

Resented being saved.

Why didn’t he see what it really was?

“You think… I am upset because I failed as a doctor?” he choked out incredulously.

Garak was clearly running a reassessment of the situation in his brilliant mind, yet coming up blank.

“You think… having you die in front of my eyes… night after night… would upset me because of _professional failure?!”_

He was shaking.

“I almost died before, Doctor. I doubt you need a reminder of that.”

“I had time to save you then! I knew where to go, what to do – I had options!”

“The option you chose was foolhardy. Regardless, I am not ungrateful. It’s hard to argue with the continued ability to draw breath.”

Julian was rocking.

Drawing breath.

He could use that ability right now.

A slow, unbroken sound was building in the back of his throat as his vision blurred.

Two firm hands steadied him, grasping his shoulders and turning him slowly.

“What have you come here for, Doctor?” Garak asked.

Julian’s wide, panicked eyes took in the sight.

Perfectly measured face.

Piercing blue eyes, keen and observant, no doubt taking in every nuance in his expression.

It felt new and raw.

Julian realized that he had seen Garak falling apart, yet Garak had never before seen him do the same.

Julian’s hand twitched.

Was it real?

Could he believe it?

His trembling hand reached for Garak and the man didn’t move.

_ Is this too much? _

_ They mustn’t know… _

Shakily, his fingers found Garak’s temple and the new sensory input flooded his mind.

Heartbeat.

Steady as a wide river.

Measured.

Much too slow for a human, but then again… This was a Cardassian, unblinking and patient.

The voice he heard was soft.

Hauntingly soft.

“As you can see, I am alive and well, Doctor.”

Not trusting himself to speak, Julian nodded frantically.

Withdrawing his hand was almost physically painful.

The anchoring feeling he got from the pulsing, calming thrum and the touch of smooth skin was a siren’s call.

He chided himself for the aching in his bones.

_ Object permanence, Julian _ . He reminded himself. _Just because you can no longer touch it, it doesn’t mean it’s not there._

Still, the visual reminder only made him crave more.

Only made him long for…

He must have looked an utter, wretched mess because soon he found Garak taking his palms in hand.

The soft, halted stroking of gray thumbs across his knuckles spoke of gestures rusted from disuse.

Recalled affection shelved for too long.

Julian’s face contorted.

_ If it’s not real… _ _ You’ll tell them. They’ll know everything. _

_ They will know exactly how to hurt you. _

__

Did it even matter?

He was already hurting.

_ But then they would hurt Garak. _

Maybe…

Maybe what had happened was reality.

Maybe Garak was dead and this was the lie.

Their lie or his own?

Torture or escape?

“I don’t know what’s real…” Julian admitted. “What if I am still trapped in there?”

“In the nightmare?” Garak observed and Julian had a fleeting thought.

What if…

The files were classified, sure, and he wasn’t allowed to discuss them, but if Garak had already snooped through them, then…

Then it wouldn’t be telling, would it?

And if there was one thing he was fairly sure imaginary Garak and real Garak had in common, it was the ability to know things he had no business knowing.

So he gambled.

“No common nightmare would have me falling to pieces, Garak.”

“No,” Garak conceded easily, “But an uncommon… and reoccurring one… clearly does.”

Julian waited.

“What have you come for, Julian?”

His name was a concession.

A blessing.

“I came… because I can’t trust myself.”

Garak seemed to be weighing his next words carefully and Julian opted to give him more time.

“I can’t trust anything. My mind is playing tricks on me.”

“And in this waking nightmare… I am the one you turn to? I can see how others might think your judgment is compromised.”

Julian shook his head.

What a way to acknowledge the situation. 

He shrugged.

“You can be convincing.” Julian offered.

That was his concession to this insanity.

Garak’s smile was one of wicked delight.

“Ah, a bedtime story, then!” The Cardassian said enthusiastically. “You’ve come to the right place! What shall I delight you with? Cardassian cautionary tales might not be to your tastes, I’m afraid…”

A warning?

What for?

He needed something real, not games.

Though, with Garak, games were very real.

Every truth was threaded with lies. 

Or was it the other way around?

“Tell me something… Something about you I wouldn’t know.”

Something too outrageous for his mind to come up with.

Garak made a tutting sound.

“You’re fishing, Doctor. That’s unbecoming.”

“Would it kill you to be forthcoming, Garak?” Julian bristled.

“I am always perfectly forthcoming, Doctor! I resent the implication.”

“Please… Not now.” Julian entreated feebly.

“There seems to be a burning question in there somewhere, dear Doctor, so why don’t you pose it?”

A carte blanche?

Julian could only stare in the sweltering gloom. 

That was terribly uncharacteristic. 

Perhaps this was Garak’s concession.

There _was_ a question.

One Julian never dared ask.

About the thing that started all this.

“Why me, Garak?”

The tailor feigned ignorance.

“You might have to be a tad more specific, my dear.”

Julian obliged.

“I mean, I get why it was me. I was the youngest, the least prejudiced, the most… _malleable_. Still, after I had become your contact… Why persist? Why all the lunches? The debates? The friendship?”

“A Cardassian all alone is a sad sight; surely you wouldn’t begrudge me your company?”

“But why approach me? I’m a doctor, surely someone in command, or maybe even security would have been just as good!”

“You are not making much sense.” Garak stated the obvious.

Julian knew he was contradicting himself.

His mind was all over the place. 

“Why did you approach me, Garak?”

“Perhaps I just needed a lingerie model?” The man offered mischievously and Julian huffed.

Even when Julian was in the thickest darkness, Garak could shine a light capable of dispelling it.

“The attempt at levity is appreciated, but that’s not what I’m after. Would you make it easy on me and stop lying for a moment?”

Julian was so tired of lies, so tired of having to always, _always_ dig for the truth.

Couldn’t Garak just once in his life, make an exception-

“Why do you think I am lying?” Garak said in a tone Julian couldn’t recall him using before.

It was almost…

_ Earnest. _ _ _

Almost.

“Because… You always sandwich the truth between lies. It’s so seamless I can’t tell which part is true and which part isn’t! And while I usually take that as a stimulating mental exercise, I simply haven’t the strength now.”

There.

The truth on his part.

A part of the truth, anyway.

Was that helplessness in Garak’s eyes?

Impossible.

It must have been a trick of the light.

“Why do I die in your dream?” Garak asks.

“You let your guard down to make a witty retort and you get shot.”

“How concerning! That I would be anywhere near a dangerous situation like that!”

“You lied and saved us from getting captured. You killed two and turned towards me, and then the blast…”

Mere mention of it and Julian is back in the memory.

The frantic escape.

The adrenaline rushing through his system.

The smell of disruptor fire.

The smell…

“Obviously this scenario is highly improbable, Doctor. I am but a mere tailor. I do have enough sense not to find myself in such a perilous environment.”

Julian looks at him again.

The burning plasma blue of his eyes.

The truth lay in the lies.

In the gentleness.

In the careful phrasing.

In a throwaway line.

_ I can’t… They’ll know. _

“You’ve read the report, haven’t you?” Julian accused, but didn’t let him reply. “If you’ve read the report, then I can be honest.”

He was giving Garak an out.

An in.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” A proud little smile flickered in the corners of those honey-coated lips. 

That was such a nothing statement.

Julian took it.

He leaned closer.

Garak hadn’t moved.

Closer.

_ Closer. _ _ _

__

Julian’s pulse was thundering in his ears, deafening.

He could breathe in Garak’s air.

Lies… Truth… In Garak’s case, weren’t they one and the same?

And if he hadn’t lied…

Julian leaned in until he was a sliver away from…

A heartbeat away.

“When you approached me…”

_ They will know. _

__

“Was this what you wanted?”

_ THEY WILL KNOW. _

__

But so would he.

Garak was still; didn’t even appear to be breathing.

His blue eyes narrowed and closed.

A whisper ghosted across his lips.

“Yes…”

It was condemnation.

Liberation.

Julian exhaled and melded against Garak.

Into Garak.

It _was_ real.

And if it wasn’t, nothing was.

It didn’t matter anymore.

_ Let them all know. _

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That concludes this angsty little number!
> 
> I hope the next time inspiration strikes, it's something a bit more lighthearted...
> 
> As always, I love hearing from you! :)

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry for the angst, but I promise it ends well?
> 
> As always, I love hearing what you think! ^^


End file.
